Stalking of a Lesser Deity
by Tupper
Summary: Draco is being stalked. Not by Pansy, not by homicidal Gryffindors, but by a small, red-haired girl with a supposed Potter fetish and no previously known backbone. Will the mongoose catch the snake? DG. Pre-OotP.


I've decided that one-shots are a pleasant thing, so I'm doing another. However, the last time I did—couple days ago?—people wanted me to come up with another chapter. I'm mulling that over. Maybe I will—or maybe not. But most of you asked (demanded, threatened…whatever) large quantities of sap. If you haven't read it and have no idea what I'm talking about, either read it and tell me what flavor syrup you like best or quietly sit and hum the l337 Potter soundtrack. 

I've you already have read it, and reviewed that yes, you DO want gooey-ness, re-think it. 

If you ask for sap, so help me, YOU WILL GET IT. 

This one…well, this is also D/G, and mucho different from anything else I've done. Why, you say? Because Ginny's gotten mildly raunchy lately.

                Stalking of a Lesser Deity

With absolutely diddly poise.

                Draco paused in adding salt to the already salty pork chop sitting in front of him to glance sideways at the Gryffindor table, trying not to turn his head too much or let _her catch him looking. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied __her, sitting between Colin Creevey and a few other little midgets that were talking about Harry Potter and how great he was, winning the Quidditch game against Hufflepuff—not like that was a big deal, considering that the Hufflepuff players, true to their name, commonly fell off their brooms after so much as a breath from the wind. Much to his discomfiture, __she wasn't jumping into the conversation enthusiastically like __she used to. _

                Instead of glossing over Potter's wonderful qualities like nearly everyone else did, practically falling down to the ground in a swooning fit whenever the boy came near, Ginny Weasley was staring at Draco. Not Potter, not wistfully the vacant seat that he sat in a few minutes before, but _Draco. _

                And it wasn't an admiring glance. Or an angry, hurt one. It was more of a measuring, calculating look. And it made Draco as uncomfortable as heck. Whenever he got nervous, he tended to stutter over his words and his feet itched. Then he would wish that one of the house-elves would massage them for him, and that would make him even more nervous at the thought of what someone would say if they found out, and that was the hellish paradoxical circle he was always caught in.

                Unable to stand the silent, relentless torment of her unexpected scrutinizing, Draco quickly excused himself from the table without bothering to finish his pork chops and headed for the library, hoping against hope that Ginny Weasley was at least normal in the sense that unless it was for paper research, most students wouldn't be caught dead in the library, among the stifling amounts of learning.

                Draco ignored the bleating protests of Pansy, grabbing his bag and heading in the direction of the library. 

                He began to feel a little better. The library would be safe. No sane student ever stepped in there if it wasn't the day before a enormous essay was due. He started taking more relaxed breaths and his feet itched less. 

                Until his breath caught in his throat and he gave an involuntary hiccup.

                To get to the library, he would have to walk by the table where the Weasel sat watching his every move.

                Draco's face reddened in anger. Why the hell was he so afraid of a girl as breakable as a toothpick? He reckoned that she was a bony little stick. He could probably set her on fire if he wanted to; just put her flaming red hair under a microscope and roast marshmallows.

                He held his head high as he walked past her. Several of her fellow classmates habitually turned to glare at him. That was fine. The contempt was mutual.

                He felt big brown eyes boring into his back. Draco seriously hoped he was imagining it, but there had been a small smile lingering on Ginny's face as the object of her torment tried valiantly to pretend she wasn't there. It was the surveying smile of a predator watching her prey, waiting for the exact moment when he would be so rattled that his formerly fierce guard was down. Then she would, like every other huntress, strike mercilessly.

                Draco's strides increased in their size and speed. The usually large, spacious halls were now too cramped and privacy was a joke. No one was ambling along the hallways. It was lunch and the students were always starving after the tedious schedule of the morning classes. Except for Draco. His stomach seemed to have shrunk in size, but was grumbling in annoyance at being interrupted right when food was present.

                Draco was irritated too. His steps became more forceful as he told himself that no little red-haired girl was going to get to him like this. No Weasel had ever gotten away with freaking out a Malfoy, and it was going to stay that way.

                But she really wasn't a weasel. No—she fit the description of a mongoose better. Draco's cheeks flushed as he remembered what a mongoose hunted. Forget that. A rodent of some sort, preferably a flattened road-killed rat by the side of the road. Or maybe a mouse. A little brown mouse, whiskers trembling as the great Malfoy serpent towered above it, radiating impossible control.

                Draco liked that image a bit better, but some part of his mind said, _No, it's a mongoose and you know it. Draco flinched. He supposed he could live with that, as long as he wasn't the snake she ensnared in her trap._

                Draco gave himself a mental slap and berated himself for losing his composure, even when he was alone. There was no reason to actually be _afraid of her…there was nothing she could do; he was a year above her, and a Malfoy to say the least…_

                Finally, the welcoming doors of the library loomed before him. He hurriedly pushed past the wooden doors and felt a wave of relief at entering the sanctuary, and was so soothed by the uneventful walk that he wondered why he even needed a sanctuary in the first place. He was also so calmed that he didn't immediately notice that Madam Pince was no-where in sight. 

                No other students were occupying the library, which was fine with him, although it could have been unsettling to anyone else viewing the situation. Draco shook off the thought and went on to others—like possibly sneaking into the Restricted Section and perusing through the unwatched forbidden books. That particular thought was tantalizing, and would certainly take his mind off the stupid ideas he had had that he was being stalked. He shuddered at the word, and started for the aisle.

                _Mongoose, my butt, he thought scornfully._

                Draco felt his familiar smirk crawl boldly back onto his face, partly so no-one would see him and know that he had had the living goblins scared out of him, and partly so if that _weasel saw him later, she would be extremely disappointed that her prey had been cleverer than her. He lowered his head, still smirking, and paused to examine a book with an interesting title: __"How To Disembowel Neatly."_

                He was so wrapped up in looking down on someone that he didn't look up, or he would have noticed a shadow passing just to his right. Nevertheless, little hairs stood up on the back of his neck and he tensed, thinking that Madam Pince had returned. Quickly, he gathered his bag and crept out of a side opening in the aisle, and safely made it through to the more kid-friendly section of the library.

                He pretended to be very interested in a small, leather-bound book explaining how to magically crochet blankets, and then realized what he was reading, and hastily shoved it back in its place on the shelf. As isolated as the library was (he looked briefly for Madam Pince, but she wasn't in sight), he didn't want anyone suddenly coming in and seeing him reading this. He safely tucked the book into its snug spot. Being spotted with old witches' books—that was the sort of thing that sticks with you in school.

                "Smart move, putting that book back," purred a voice behind him. Draco started and whirled around to see Ginny right behind him, only two feet away. That knowing smile of every efficient predator was still on her face. "That's the sort of thing that sticks with you in school."

                Draco unstuck his throat and said, a little more huskily than he meant to, but satisfyingly sarcastic: "How very clever of you."

                Adding to his already pent-up nervousness, Ginny didn't seem insulted in the slightest. Instead, her smile widened and Draco yearned very much to slap it all the way back to the maggot hole she came from. He tried very, very hard not to notice that his back was facing a wall, he was in an aisle surrounded by bookshelves, and his only way out was past the mongoose.

                He was seriously thinking about having a discussion with Dumbledore on how the school was set up. Literally.

                Draco forced a sneer onto his face. "What are you doing here, weasel?" he mocked. "Can't you see that I'm busy? Or can't you afford glasses?"

                "Excuse the mongoose, the weasel's out walking." Ginny was calm, cool, and utterly unsurprised that she had a Malfoy backed up against the wall. She scanned the books briefly, and Draco grabbed wildly at the possibility that it was only a coincidence that she was here too, in the library with him, with…no students around… and no librarian…

                 Crap.

                Ginny's eyes alighted with interest as she spotted an appealing title. She pulled it out and showed it to Draco, whose face paled when he read the cover.

                _One-Thousand-and-Two Ways__ to Ensnare the Object of Your Interest._

                Ginny looked at the book in amusement. "My, my," she said tauntingly. "Look at what I have here." She traced slowly of the cover of its spine, and Draco felt chills down his own. "Let's see what it says."

                Draco's mouth opened to say that he'd rather not, but it was stuck, still in shock at what was/might be/could happen. The only sound that came out was a tinny squeak, which Ginny ignored, turning the pages with agonizing slowness.

                "'_The one thing to remember when attempting to snare a man of your own is that they will try to blatantly disregard any subtle hints you might throw their way.'" Ginny looked up. "Well. That's very good advice, don't you think?" she said innocently._

                Draco was frozen with complete and utter shock, his eyes wide and his eyebrows shot so far up his forehead that they looked like a cartoon. His throat thawed out just enough for him to rasp out, "Maybe you should try that with Potter." He sounded nearly hopeful. This was definitely not a good situation. He was backed up against the wall, being read excerpts from a love book by a girl that was stalking him.

                Ginny's face showed no reaction to his words other than another smile. "No, I don't think so." Her voice sounded cool and composed, while Draco felt like his voice had magically changed into a high-pitched violin. Ginny absently stepped a little closer, and began reading out loud again.

                "'_The thing to remember is that the woman should always take control'"—Draco nearly had a heart attack—"__because the man is virtually an insensitive prick who doesn't know love if it walked up and bit him in the ass.'" Ginny looked up again. "Hmm," she said pleasantly, "I'm betting the author was a witch." _

                Draco said nothing. He was beyond words now, and his back was pressing so hard into the wall that he thought he might break through to the other side. Fat chance—he could only be so lucky. He was terrified—not by Voldemort, not by his father, but by a small red-haired girl who seemed to know exactly what strings to pull to get what she wanted. And what she wanted was becoming more awfully clear with each moment that passed.

                Ginny closed the book thoughtfully. She didn't say anything else. She didn't need to. She traced the spine one last time, slowly, and slid the book in its spot. Then the girl, breakable as a toothpick, spineless as a snake but equally as manipulative, closed the gap between her and an extremely frightened cobra. Ginny reached out with one delicate hand and slid it under Draco's tie. Said man let out another involuntary squeak as Ginny leaned fully against him.

                Draco was essentially pinned against the wall, so scared stiff that he couldn't move an inch. At the same time, a very unwelcome part of his mind thought that this was easily the most delightful crushing he had ever experienced. Ginny flicked her long red hair over her shoulder, which exposed her long, graceful neck, and traced his jaw line the same way she had run her finger along the book—slowly, temptingly. Draco shivered as the cool skin trailed across his own warm skin, and asked himself, as he was capable of nothing else, if she had put a spell on him to render him helpless and unable to move.

                Draco could barely do anything but watch as Ginny pressed her slim frame to his, further increasing the wonderful pressure of being squeezed in the middle. She absently lowered her hand down from his jaw to the front of his robes, and it slid inside. Her hand tracked over his sculpted, tensed back muscles and over his powerful shoulders, and finally, down to his smooth chest. Draco wondered if she could feel his heart beating like a jackrabbit on fire.

                He barely had time to protest as Ginny's free hand crept behind his neck and cajoled his mouth to meet hers.

                Still in the Great Hall eating their potatoes and cheese, Fred and George Weasley shoveled their food in their mouths, each furthering their identical looks by sporting the same lop-sided grin.

                "D'you think it's almost over?" Fred asked the other with a slightly naughty air about his voice. Katie Bell, sitting across form them and too the right, looked at them curiously. George snorted and reached for a bread roll.

                "Fred," he began, "if Ginny were to show up right now—with or without a very bewildered-looking Draco—I'd be very disappointed in the Weasley genes." 

                Katie's eyes widened and she looked from one to the other, and shook her head, deciding she really, really didn't want to know.

                "You two are mental."

                I'm not writing a second chapter for this one. It was kinda fun to write this, but…eh. You gotta know when to let it go. Which is why I might not write the second chapter of "Porcelain Notes." Anyway:

Like? Hate? Want me to throw it out the window?

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